


Blood on my hands

by Emmlan



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-15
Updated: 2017-05-15
Packaged: 2018-11-01 04:12:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10914093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emmlan/pseuds/Emmlan
Summary: She can still feel Isak’s blood on her hands. It’s all her fault. She can barely breathe with the weight of it all laying on top of her lungs like a ton of stones.Sana has nowhere to go that night. Her mind full of guilt and pain. She eventually ends up at Isak & Even's doorstep. Ready to confess all her sins and ask for forgiveness. Ready to cleanse herself of the blood on her hands.





	Blood on my hands

**Author's Note:**

> I needed to write something to deal with the clip we got this Friday. My mind has been spinning trying to put everything together. We don't know enough. What I do know is how lonely Sana must be feeling. My heart breaks for her. So this story gives a version of events that start when the screen went black on Friday. How does Sana get through that horrible, lonely night? How does she eventually end up eating pancakes with Isak & Even the next day? Read to find out!
> 
> The story has not been beta-read. Any spelling mistakes, errors with tenses or other grammatical errors are all mine. English is not my 1st language. Let me know if there are any huge mistakes and I'll correct them, thanks!

_“Imagine there’s no heaven, it’s easy if you try, no hell below us, above us only sky…Imagine all the people, living for today”_

Imagine not falling apart like this. Imagine not having the whole world cave in like this. Imagine a reality less painful than this. Imagine.

Just a few innocent hours ago she wouldn’t have been able to imagine this. Not at all. She’d been giddy, naive, cradled by oblivious ease. The small doubt she had about the Russebus, the nagging thought in the back of her head that things weren’t as they should in her group of friends, all that was pushed away. Hidden beneath this selfish, all encompassing thought of: I’ll see him tonight. The grin on her face, her blush when she caught herself thinking of it. Thinking of him. Selfish, silly, stupid little girl. Little had she known. Little had she been able to imagine. 

_“Imagine there’s no countries. It isn’t hard to do. Nothing to live or die for, and no religion too. Imagine all the people...living life in peace.”_

All she can see is the blood. She closes her eyes and she sees it. It doesn’t matter that she’s cleaned her hands so many times by now. The first time in the bathroom right after. Right before. As if things couldn’t fall apart anymore.

Bad enough that she had been forced to run out and stop her brother from hurting her friends. Bad enough that she had to see one of her best friends, bleeding from her brother’s friends hands. Bleeding. She hadn’t hesitated a minute. Selfish, stupid, silly little girl. She hadn’t hesitated to touch. Had wanted to feel. Had wanted to comfort. Blood on her hands. His blood. Her fault. They never even addressed her presence. Just left.

Blood on her hands. She hurried to clean it, get it off of her. Yet still, hours later, it’s all she sees when she closes her eyes and it’s all she sees when she keeps them open. 

Right after the blood. When she’d scrubbed and tried to catch her breath. Tried to push away the guilt. She should have known. Should have known they’d come, should have warned them. Shouldn’t even have invited her brother and his friends. Should have kept this night safe, unharmed, pure. But now. Not pure at all. Just her, the selfish, silly, stupid little girl that wanted too much. She had forgotten. Why it was a bad idea for her brother and his friends to be at the same party as Isak, Even and their friends. She so wanted to see him that she forgot everything else. All she thought of was him. Was Yousef. Stupid, silly, selfish little girl. 

Right after the blood, before she’d even left the bathroom another house of cards fell down on top of her. She should have known. Honestly, she did know. She had a feeling, a bad feeling. There was nothing she could actually do to keep this from happening. The other girls were the ones paying for the bus. Yes, Mari wanted to sell to Sana and her friends. Probably because of her friendship with Noora. But now they were joined with the other girls and there were no boundaries between them. Only between them and Sana apparently. She should have known. She had known, she did know. It’s how it always was. She just wanted it to be different this time. But she knew. She could see Vilde’s innocent blue eyes, her oblivious demeanor. No, Vilde wasn’t cruel. But she knew what she wanted and didn’t hesitate to go after it. She was very similar to Sana in that sense, honestly they were more alike in most ways than Sana would ever care to admit. Stupid, silly, selfish little girls. Both of them. 

The third strike. The thing that really brought her to her knees. She could still feel the blood on her, despite just cleaning up. She could still hear those girls’ words ringing in her ears. She just wanted her friends. Maybe if she could find Chris or Eva or even Noora. She would apologize to Noora for not telling her about William. She’d understand, she had to, it wasn’t lika Sana had been the only one to know anyway. All the girls had known about it. Noora would understand then she would be on Sana’s side in the fight that was about to occur regarding the Russebus. 

Only. Only that’s not how it went. In her daze she barely noticed at first but then it was as if every light in the room was turned to them. There, in the middle of the room, in the sea of people, all she saw was them. Yousef. Kindhearted, generous, caring, beautiful Yousef. Kissing. Kissing Noora. Kissing her best friend. Sana felt as if she’d been drenched in Isak’s blood all over again, covering not only her hands this time but her entire body. Her knees almost gave in. Her vision turned blurry. She had to get out of there.

She ran. She ran and ran. She heard voices behind her. His voice specifically. Selfish, stupid silly little girl. How could you ever think you’d mean something to him. How could you ever think it would work. He’s not muslim. He's not yours to keep. He’s a good man Elias had said, that matters more. Such a good man that he’d let her go alone to try to stop a fight. Such a good man that he’d kiss her best friend. No, she can’t judge him for that. He never stated his intentions towards her, it could have all been an her head. And what does Elias know anyway about being a good man. 

She feels nauseous. Elias is a good man, he’s her brother. She doesn’t know exactly what triggered that fight tonight and she’s not sure how big his part in it was, but she knows he’s good. She knows his heart. She can still feel Isak’s blood on her hands. It’s all her fault. She can barely breathe with the weight of it all laying on top of her lungs like a ton of stones. 

There’s nowhere to go. She realizes that after a while. There’s nowhere to go and no one to see. No shelter to be found. She can’t go home. Her mother, her sweet mother who just hours earlier had texted to once more reiterate her faith in Sana. Apologizing for not handling things great earlier. No, no she can’t. And Elias. She wants to see him, see that he’s alright. Find out a bit more about the fight. She does. But she can’t. She can barely hold herself upright. She can’t face him like this. Cam't be strong fr him when she can't even be strong for herself.

There’s a park. She’s sitting on the swingset. She can barely remember how she got here. Her mom has texted, she’s said she’s sleeping at Eva’s. Elias has texted, she’s told him the same. Yousef has texted, she’s not replied. She’s not even read it. Hasn’t found the strength to block his number, to erase any memory of him in her mind. He’s still in her mind, he’s still in her heart. She wishes she could cleanse herself of him, like she had cleansed herself of Isak’s blood. Only she still doesn’t feel like the blood actually went away. She sees it everywhere. It’s a dagger in her heart, it hurts to breathe it hurts when her heart beats. Isak. No texts from him. Or from Even. Not that her and Even usually text. But still. She needs to know how Isak is doing. She needs to apologize, to explain. She needs to see him. See that his blood is still his blood, that he’ll heal. Maybe then she’ll feel like she can heal too. 

Unaware of the time. Unaware of the rain that’s been pouring for hours. Unaware of how long she’s sat there in the park getting wetter and colder. Unaware of it all. The texts that have kept coming in. From Yousef. Mostly. None from her friends. None from Noora. Did Noora see her? She must have noticed when Yousef took of, yelling for her. What’s Noora thinking? She’s probably sleeping, not thinking of blood on her hands. She has no blood on her hands. It's all on Sana anyway. 

It’s dark and cold and wet. But Sana only takes note of it at a distance, as if observing a scientific phenomena from far away. She knows the way. She’d brought him notes once from Biology, on a day when he’d stayed home. When the world had been a bit too heavy to carry. So she knows the way. It’s so illogical, irrational. Not like Sana at all. Silly, selfish, stupid little girl. She goes anyway.

She knows the code, has it in an old text. She hurries up the steps until she’s outside of their door. It’s possible they’re not even home yet, hours have passed but as unaware as she is of the time she knows the E.R on a Friday night is always crowded. Long wait. She’s not thinking of that right now though. She’s not thinking of much at all. She just needs to see him. To see him as something else than just blood on her hands. She rings the bell.

Sleepy, confused, tall boy. Even. In boxers and a t-shirt, rubbing his eyes, staring at her, confused. 

A voice in the back “Evi, who’s that?” another sleepy, confused, slightly annoyed voice. Isak.

“What are you doing here?” Even asks, sounding more awake than he looks. “Sana? It’s 3am, why aren’t you home?” 

“Sana?” Isak’s voice is getting closer. He turns up in the doorway, standing next to Even. “Oh my God,” he says as he takes her in. This cold, wet mess of a girl. She takes him in. No blood, just bruises on his face, tired eyes, kind eyes. Wrinkled forehead, worried. “Sana, what’s wrong?” This time, her knees finally give in.

She feels herself fall over, her knees making contact with the floor. She feels herself fold. He shivering fingers reaching out to grip at something, her finger tips manages to grab and hold onto the rug they keep in front of the door. Somehow they pull her in, close the door behind her. She can’t see anything, her vision blurry, she can hear them distantly.

“What’s wrong with her? Evi, we have to let her in, what’s wrong with her…” 

“Has she been outside all this time? Look at her Isak, she’s soaking wet and her skin is so cold, we have to help her.”

Her forehead is leaning on their hallway floor. She’s all folded in. She’s starting to feel like she might be able to sit. She can hear them. Know they’re debating getting her into dry clothes. We can’t, Even says, we can’t unless she asks us to, it’s Haram. That word. It clears up the fog in her mind a bit. Haram. Selfish, stupid silly little girl. She forces her body to obey. Forces her frozen muscles to straighten up so she’s sitting. 

“Do you have,” she manages to croak out, her throat unused to many hours. “Some sweats and a towel?”

Their bathroom. She’s getting into Isak’s sweatpants and a big t-shirt, probably Even’s. It all smells like freshly cleaned laundry anyway. It’s not ideal but it’s ok. She’s dry. She’s hung her clothes over their bathtub. Her hijab too. She’s covered her hair in a big towel. Her makeup is so smudged, she’s tried to clean it off but they boys don’t really have products intended to get rid of mascara. She looks at her hands and she still feels like she can see Isak’s blood there. She shivers. Meets her own eyes in the mirror, can’t recognize the girl staring back. She wants to throw up. Or scream. Or both. Maybe cry. But she can’t. She feels nothing.

When she exits the bathroom the boys have also gotten into sweatpants. Sana barely remembers seeing them in only underwear earlier. Haram. But she hadn’t been well. She’s not well. She shouldn’t be here. She knows that. But she’s done so much tonight she shouldn’t do. What's a few more forbidden things.

“Sana, what’s happened?” Isak starts. 

They all have cups of tea in their hands, sitting on their couch. Even and Isak on both sides of her, as if wanting to spread warmth to her. Even though body heat only works through touch and they’re not touching. Respecting her boundaries. Little do they know she’s crushed every boundary tonight. She wants to scream. She takes a sip of the tea. Chai. She raises her eyes, finally looking at him, fully. The bruises on his face look even more haunting in the dim morning light of 4 am. But there’s not blood, maybe a bit of dried blood by one of his nostrils. Only a little bit. 

“Are you ok?” She asks. The only thing she’s wanted to know. The reason she came here. What she’s thought about ever since she stopped the fight and saw him there, bleeding. 

Isak’s hand reaches his nose, touches it delicately. He smiles slightly.  
“I’m fine, nothing wrong with me, no broken bones or concussions. Just some brusies, docs said I might even get a black eye, pretty badass to be honest.”

Sana sees Even tense up a bit as Isak speaks, he rolls his eyes too. But he doesn’t seem too shaken up either. Which probably means Isak is telling the truth. It doesn’t really ease anything in Sana though, still feeling his blood on her hands. Still choking on her guilt. She tries to speak, ends up choking on a sob. 

“Sana it’s ok, I swear I’m fine,” he reaches out as she folds in on herself again, fighting against the sobs threatening to wreck her completely. 

“He is fine,” Even adds, voice soothing. “I’m taking care of him, I promise.” It doesn’t help, her whole body shaking now. 

She manages to open her mouth. “I’m sorry.” It’s said, what she came to say. She pushes herself a bit more. “It’s my fault, I’m sorry.”

“Hey, hey you,” she feels his hands on her shoulders. 

“Don’t,” Even warns, probably about touching her but Isak doesn’t stop, forces her face up so that she’s looking him straight in the eye. Kind, warm, serious eyes.

“Not your fault,” he says. “And don’t try me, I’ve been through this discussion once tonight already.” He let’s her go. “Sorry,” he says, sheepishly, as if only now realizing he maybe shouldn’t have touched her. 

She wants to go back into his touch, suddenly craves it. She’s all messed up. Selfish, stupid, silly little girl.

“It couldn’t be Even’s fault,” she says, voice somewhat steadier now. “It couldn’t be,” she says, addressing Even now. “You didn’t know they were coming, I should have told you, should have warned you.” 

Even’s eyes are calm, no panic in them anymore. Isak squeezes his shoulders, his eyes steady too. “So you knew they were coming?” Even says, more a statement than a question. “It doesn’t matter Sana, I was going to have to face them sometime. I was going to have to face myself sooner or later too, it had to happen.”

“But it didn’t have to happen now,” she whispers. “You weren’t ready.” 

A flash of something painful rushes across Even’s beautiful facial features only to disappear as soon as it came. “I don’t think I ever would have been, but now Isak knows. And the world didn’t collapse. We’re still here.” 

“We are,” Isak agrees. “It would have helped to know before though,” he adds a bit jokingly. “Then I wouldn’t have gotten into Mikael’s face like that.”

Sana is momentarily shaken out of her own guilt. “Huh?”  
“Yeah,” Isak grins slightly. “I had this idea that Mikael was Even’s ex so I came at him asking why he had to show up here, did he want to get back with Even, and no he couldn’t because Even’s mine now.”

Sana gasps. She...she can see how that couldn’t end well.

“Naturally, when I started pushing him around yelling all that at him, he hit me,” Isak finishes. “Honestly, I probably would have hit me too in that situation if I were him.” 

Even shakes his head a bit, as if disagreeing but not managing to be unamused. Still, there’s guilt in his movement, Sana recognizes it from herself. He speaks: “Mahdi, Jonas and Magnus all went for him and then of course Elias and the other boys started defending Mikael and it all went even more to shit.” 

“Then you came out and stopped it,” Isak adds. “You did right? I don’t remember it all clearly but I remember hearing you yell at Elias to stop, that’s the first time I realized you were related. Then I remember you coming up to me.” 

Sana nods. She looks at her hands, the blood that had been there is no longer glaring at her. But she still feels the need to wash it away even more. 

“I’m sorry I never told you about my brother and his friends,” she starts. Isak shakes his head. “You were protecting Even, keeping his secret, I’m grateful for that.” Sana nods. “I’m sorry I invited them.” It’s out there. There’s silence for a bit. She meets Even’s eyes. Her remorse so strong it’s almost possible to touch it as it soars through the space between them. 

“You invited them? I didn’t know you liked to hang out with them,” Even says, wrinkling his forehead as if thinking hard on something.

“Normally I don’t,” she allows. “But...But tonight I wasn’t thinking. I was so selfish, so stupid...such a silly little girl.”

She puts her worst feelings into words. Says it out loud. Knows it’s true. “I only thought of what I wanted.” Isak lightly touches her shoulder, encouraging. “And what was that?” “To see him,” she whispers. “Who?” Even inquires. “Yousef.”

She ends up telling them the whole story. Of this beautiful boy who sometimes have felt like the only one to really see her, to hear her. To let her be herself. To care for her thoughts, her dreams, her feelings. This boy who crushed her once when she found out he didn’t share her beliefs anymore. 

“What?” Even exclaimed at that point, “He stopped believing because of me?” there’s guilt there, but there’s something else too, a sense of amazement that he’d meant so much to someone. That maybe his friends had cared for him as deeply as he had for them. Maybe. Maybe not all hope was lost after all. She keeps talking. Tells them about Elias encouragement.

“Sounds like a good brother,” Isak said at that. “Solid advice.” Solid advice, maybe. Maybe if she hadn’t been such a selfish, silly, stupid little girl. She tells them the rest. How she’d seen them show up while they’d been singing Imagine. Imagine all the people living life in peace. She wanted that. Could imagine it. Could almost touch her desire of that reality with her fingertips. Could almost taste it. Her smile, his smile.

Then. Noora’s anger. She tells them briefly, doesn't want to spill too much of her friend’s pain. She guards her friends even now, as best as she can. 

Then. Yousef coming to get her. Then. Isaks’s blood on her hands. My fault my fault. “ Sana, it wasn’t your fault,” Isaks voice snapping her out of it. 

Then. The girls saying nothing but truths, cruel, hurtful truths, seeping into her skin like contaminated blood. Then. Seeing them there. Yousef. Noora. Kissing. That’s the second time he crushed her. She runs out of air.

She cries. She finally cries. She reaches for them, shows them she wants their comfort. Let’s herself be held as she cries. As they whisper soothing words.

“Not your fault.” “You’ll be ok Sana.” “I can’t believe Yousef would do that.” “There has to be an explanation.” “Not your fault.” “He’s not worthy of you.” “They’re not worthy of your tears.” “Ignore those stupid girls.” 

Selfish, stupid, silly. 

“No Sana you’re not you’re so smart and kind, don’t let them hurt you.” 

The sun wakes her. She’s covered in blankets, on a couch. She clances at the clock on the wall, 11 am. She hears something in the kitchen, voices. She remembers. Remembers the horrible night. Remembers being outside for hours getting wet and cold, walking around in a daze. Remembers getting here early in the morning. Remembers the blood. The confessions. She looks at her hands, clean. She gets to her feet. In the kitchen Isak and Even are making pancakes. 

“Good morning sunshine,” Isak exclaims as she enters. His bruises look less harrowing in sunlight. Even steals a kiss before flipping over another pancake. “Do you want breakfast?” Her stomach makes it’s presence known, screaming loudly. They all laugh, surprised. She can't remember the last time she ate. 

“Guess that’s a yes,” Even jokes. Sana feels her lips form a small smile as she sits down and starts putting raspberry jam on her pancakes.

That morning in their kitchen, she feels the pieces of herself slowly gather. The puzzle starting to form again. Not of a selfish, silly stupid little girl. No, but of her. Sana. All the multitudes of her. Yes sometimes she’s weak and selfish and silly and stupid. But mostly she's not. She’s smart and caring and most importantly she’s worth being cared for. 

Today she feels a little bit better. Her world collapsed on top of her head like a house of cards. But she’s still here. The world is still here. Today’s a new day. She’ll figure it out.

Later today she’ll start dealing with things. Her brother first. She needs to make sure he’s ok. Even has alluded to wanting a chance to speak to him, to reconcile or at least turn their sour relationship into something more cordial. 

Then the Russebus thing. She’s going to let Sara be the bus boss. Maybe they’ll let her stay on the bus if she gracefully hands it over. Maybe they won’t. At least her friends can probably stay. If they want too. She’s not going to demand that they pick a side.

Then Noora. She will apologize again, tell her how they’d all known about William. Then she’ll tell her how she hurt her. How Noora, probably unintentionally, crushed a part of her. She’ll ask for some space. But hope that they can mend things. She loves Noora, she’s important to her. But right now just thinking about her hurts.

Then. Yousef. The most painful part. She’s decided she needs to hear him out. Needs closure. If he asks, will she give him another chance?

At this point, in the sunshine in this kitchen where she can literally feel the love and companionship and comfort flowing in the air, she can’t confidently say she wouldn’t give it to him. It better be a really good explanation though and he has a lot of work to do to make it up to her. If that’s what he wants. If that’s what she wants. If there’s even a way to mend this. If it’s supposed to be mended. She doesn’t know, right now all she knows is the pain. But she’ll start with hearing him out. The rest is in the hands of time and God. Inshallah. 

_“You may say I’m a dreamer, but I’m not the only one. I hope some day you’ll join us, and the world will live as one.”_


End file.
